Page 23 of Fate Promised
Triska stared down at her plate. “I’m sorry.”
He decided to change the subject. “When did you catch magic?”
She glanced up at him. “Catch it?” Her lips quirked into a small smile. “That’s a strange expression.” She shrugged. “One night, I was working late on the bay, and a thick fog rolled in, worse than the one tonight. I could barely even see the lighthouse. You know what it’s like on the water, in the fog?”
He nodded. Even the best fisherwoman could get disoriented, unable to see past the gunwale of their boat. After losing her mother to the sea, it must have been terrifying for Triska.
She held up her hand. “I wished so hard for a light, and one appeared in the palm of my hand. I was so shocked I almost fell out of the boat.” Triska frowned. “My magic is different, but it’s close enough to magicwielder magic that I could get some coaching and learn about it.”
“Different how?”
“Well, it only works at night. Strange since that poem called me a lightwielder. You’d think it would be active when there’s more light around.”
“Our Alpha’s mate, Briony, has similar magic.” Last year he’d witnessed Briony use her magic during the battle against Morana, and she only wielded it at night. He’d never asked her anything specific about it, and she didn’t use it much around the pack, but he knew she was called a lightwielder.
He briefly told Triska how Briony’s magic gave her the ability to heal. “We found out lightwielders are descended from an ancient race called the zorzye. It was thought they’d died out, but the bloodline must still be lingering.” He neglected to mention the zorzye died out because they were demi-immortals, only gaining true immortality when they found their bondmate. And their bondmates were the vulk. Many years ago, the vulk decided they would walk their life path alone, never taking a mate, and doomed the zorzye to fade out.
Except it seemed the bloodline still lingered. “Do you think your father … or your mother could have zorzye blood?”
Triska’s lips tightened at the corners. Only a smidge, but he caught it. He knew Triska had loved her mother, but that loving her was complicated. He remembered her mother was a beautiful woman, at times vivacious and laughing, and other times, walking the beach, her eyes vacant and staring.
“Maybe my father … He’s always said he has a few drops of wolfwalker blood, and that’s why his family is long-lived, but his mother died in childbirth, and his father left long before that, so he doesn’t know much about where he comes from. My mother … no. Definitely not.”
Triska’s face took on a closed expression, and he was sorry he’d brought her mother up. “What does your magic do? I saw it was beating back Hoyt’s on the beach.”
Triska nodded. “Yes, my magic negates magic around me, absorbing and diffusing it. Getting tutored has been challenging since I zap out the surrounding magic.” She shifted on her seat. “I don’t really use my magic, and few people know about it. Well,” she shot him a half smile, “I suppose they know now.”
They spent the rest of the evening talking about lighter topics, and other than nights by the fire with the pack telling tales, he’d never been so relaxed.
After Triska yawned for the second time in five minutes, he stood. “I should get going so you can get to bed. I’ll stay by your house, keeping watch.” A twinge sharpened in his chest at the thought of leaving. It was directly under the rune as if an invisible thread now tied the two of them together.
Triska wrapped her arms around herself and bit her lip, her head tilted down. “You’ll probably hunt down the necromancer tomorrow, right?” She gazed up at him under her lashes.
“Definitely.”
“And then you’ll leave again.”
He swallowed thickly. “Yes.”
Triska rubbed her chest. “We haven’t talked about the rune, yet. It said we have a month together.” Huh ... he hadn’t thought about the rune. He’d been too focused on catching up. Learning about what Triska was like all grown up.
His chest twinged again. “A month to choose,” he corrected. “I know a few things about runes, and Fergal seems to know even more. He may have some insight tomorrow.”
“What do you know?”
Hans kept a lot of what happened with his mate private, although he’d shared that he and Briony had both known when the time to make their choice was before them. “We’re runebound for the next month. Tied together until we choose.”
She raised her head and rubbed her chest again. “Is that why I don’t want you to leave? My chest feels funny when I think about it.” Her cheeks flushed pink. “I mean, I want to stay up talking to you all night anyway, but if you’re going to chase necromancers, you need your sleep. You can stay in the living room and sleep on the sofa, if you’d like?”
He glanced at the sofa; it was at least three feet too small for him. “Okay.” The closer he was, the better he could protect her. Right?
They gazed at each other for several long moments until Triska turned and padded silently up the stairs to her bedroom.
He pulled the cushions onto the ground and lay on his back, his arms beneath his head. He’d only snatched a few hours of sleep in the past few days, and his lids were heavy. With a vulk’s reflexes, he’d wake instantly if he scented sulfur anywhere nearby.
Did she sleep naked?
He groaned. What could he think about instead? Food? Nope—all he pictured was licking it off her. A tale? Nope—the only ones racing through his mind were the ones with a hero pursuing a heroine, and the bawdy descriptions of what they did when he caught her. Kyril? That might work, his scowling face put a damper on everything.